Drip
by giantgnat
Summary: How a typical day begins for Harley and her puddin'. Dark & Gruesome One shot. (Warning: Contains sexual references and very graphic descriptions of violence. Not for the squeamish.)


Drip, goes the blood.

He woke beside her, naked pale skin covered in little droplets of red. He looked at the slowly spinning rotors of the fan, covered in the the gory evidence of last night. As he watched it, he remembered and his bony face cracked into a smile.

He turned his head. She looked so calm as she lay there, as pale and nubile as him, her soft blonde hair covering her face. He looked at her with an... affection, of sorts. He raised a hand as if to play with her hair; then with snake-like speed, he roughly gripped them and twisted them jerkily.

She shrieked awake, and he laughed, high and wild. He pulled her to him, and clawed at her breasts, grinning. She saw his jubilant face, and then started grinning.

Suddenly, he let go, and she pouted in disappointment. He patted her head and said, "That's a good Harley." and without another word, leapt off the bloody bed. Harley seemed to notice the blood for the first time.

"Uh, puddin'? Are you hurt?" She called.

He turned with a scowl. "No, you nicompoop. Remember last night?"

Realization dawned on her. "Oh, right. The two black men who were doing it here. Ew."

He jabbed a finger at her. "Bad Harley! That's racist and homophobic!"

She looked confused. "That's not what I meant."

He scowled again, and she quailed. Ignoring her, he stepped into the bathroom, struggling to control his laughter. Wiping his eye he told himself, "I love that stupid face she makes," then dissolved into silent peals of laughter.

He took a brush, and spurting toothpaste all over it, vigorously brushing his teeth till the foam turned pink. Spitting out and taking the remainder of foam down from a long swig of the cold basin water, he looked in the mirror. His green tinted hair stuck out in an odd halo around his gaunt face. He noticed his lipstick had faded and his expression turned dark. Throwing away the blinds to the bathtub, he reached in for the bloody remainders of the corpses he had told Harley to dispose of. Squeezing something squishy, he sponged enough blood to smear over his thin lips to paint a macabre grin over his own.

"There!" he exclaimed, making kissing motions, "Now my mouth is decently dressed and proper." He looked down. "Now for the jiggly bits."

He bounded out of the bathroom with a spring in his step, startling Harley, who dropped the glass of water she'd just raised to her lips.

"Clumsy, Harley! Clumsy." he scolded her with a grin. "Now, where are your daddy's clothes?"

She squinted. "With the rest of him in the graveyard?"

He slapped her. "I meant me, honey buns! Keep up, keep up!"

She pointed at the dresser, where his clothes obscured half a dozen bottles of cologne. He grumbled something about dumb blondes, knowing full well that her hair were dyed, and yanked his clothes off the bottles of cologne, which shattered against the ground.

"Clean that mess up!" he yelled at her as he went into another room.

He heard a muffled "Yes puddin'" as he slammed the door shut behind him. He dressed angrily, wildly; twice he stumbled and crashed into the things around him. Ignoring the bruise he was getting on his shoulder, he yanked on his purple overcoat. He gave a triumphant laugh that stopped short when he found no mirror to look at himself in.

Forgetting the dresser outside, he polished the wide screen TV with his spittle and beheld himself in it. He couldn't look at the colors, but everything seemed on right. Brushing back his hair with his fingers, he went into the bedroom again.

Harley had managed to sweep up the pieces of glass onto a bed sheet, and was now looking at him, fully dressed in her tight red and black spandex. He walked past her with an idle slap on her butt and opened the door, yelling "HELLO, WORLD!" and was peeved when he realized he'd opened the wrong door and had yelled into the bathroom. A mangled corpse head look at him.

"What are you looking at?" he snapped, and closed the door. He opened another one, and was happy to find himself looking at a hallway.

"Come on, Harley!" he yelled gleefully. She came bounding up, giggling. He halted her progress by tripping her, then proceeded to walk over her outside. "You know, you make a splendid doormat." he said conversationally.

She pouted, then cheered up when he helped her up. They made their way to the the elevator, and huddled in, surprising a young bespectacled man. He gulped when he saw them. A cheesy romantic music began to play.

A second later, he pulled the nerve to ask, "Is that... cosplay?"

The Joker turned around with a wide grin, and Harley chortled.

The man nodded a few times, almost crying. "You... You're going to kill me, aren't you?"

The Clown Prince of Crime placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Look on the bright side, kiddo! You won't have to hear this _horrible _elevator music anymore."

He flicked his hand and a serrated knife flicked into his palm. The man shrieked something about a wife in Metropolis then gurgled as his murderer began to saw through his neck. The last thing he heard was, "I dunno, puddin'. The music sounds pretty nice to me."

Then, drip went the blood.


End file.
